


Moonshot

by daisuga



Series: Omnia Vincit Amor [1]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: I NEVER MANAGED TO ELABORATE MAYBE ILL ADD A CHAPTER......, M/M, also i used the original run's year as their years so....2008 lmao.. ...., bUT NOT REALLY??? i guess?????, heavily influenced by norwegian wood, just descriptions mhm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The media recently started asking about why he never hooks up with anyone.</p><p>Tajima always, always answers with, "I'm waiting for someone. No one will ever love my freckles like how they did."</p><p>The first time he said that, Hanai was torn between laughing and crying, but he surrendered.</p><p>Highly unlikely that it'll end well, but even after four years and things he started and ended, he's still in love with Tajima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonshot

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. As always. I'm posting this at 1AM god help us all

_Look back at both feet_  
 _and that winding knee;_  
 _I missed your skin when you were east--_  
 _You clicked your heels and wished for me._

* * *

Hanai stepped off the station, October breeze hitting his face. He adjusted his bag, then his glasses, then his tie; a tic he developed, kind of, before moving on to go outside. One long streak of cloud hung over him, across the frozen blue sky. It almost hurt to look at it. He inhaled and checked his phone, walking over to hail a cab (but he got half the mind to just walk, really. He grew up here, after all). He scrolled through the messages--Abe who informed him that he and Mihashi will be there by four. Suyama with a "I'll try to be there by the evening, I've got a bunch of shifts to be filled..." and Izumi and Mizutani already there before he even bought a ticket to go from Tokyo to Saitama. 

He left the Omiya Station and looked far off into the horizon. His eyes spotted a familiar chain-link fence. A familiar sound that he can easily pick up despite the buzzing of a handful of people around him. He tore his gaze away and started moving.

It's Autumn of 2008. He just turned twenty-one. Four years have gone by since he last held a bat at hand, dreaming of playing in Koushien.

Four years have gone by since he left Saitama to study in Tokyo.

Four years have gone by and he can still smell and feel every single thing he left.

* * *

Everything was brilliant green, washed clean by the last of summer's rain. They were walking home, unusually early, and the sky is the same glaring blue that even Tajima can't look up to directly. There's a distant chatter of kids playing in the fields, but as they walked, their distance drowned out those sounds. A puff of wind blew threw them and as they walk dragging their bicycles, Tajima spoke of promises.

He can still remember it clearly, as if it was yesterday. It's funny, he thought, because he doesn't remember paying attention that much to his environment. He knows for a fact, though, that he payed unforgivable amount of attention to Tajima, how his uniform hung off his torso, disheveled in the way that Hanai always took notice of. His freckles stood out, face flushed, hands firmly dragging his bike as they trudge off to Hanai's house. 

But now, despite his memory still having Tajima as the most high-definition focal point, he can clearly remember how vibrant the background was. How rocky the road was and how Tajima bumps against him not-so-discreetly. The smell of the grass, the chill bought by the wind, his sweater and how neat it looked like compared to Tajima's. And then the feelings come back--he was reminded why he was focused on them, just them, but mostly on Tajima; he was in love. Worse, love with complications. 

The memory never strays too far. They come back to him, most of the time. Sometimes at night, when he was supposed to go to sleep and he lays down and stares at the ceiling.

(He remembers the nights where he would touch the freckles on Tajima's shoulders, connecting them, like constellations, and he admires them because Tajima is like the universe, encompassing him and making him feel infinite.)

(Those nights, he'll trudge to the kitchen and take some sleeping pills.)

That day, Tajima spoke of promises. 

"My sister," He said, when they stopped for a while by a bench and sat down. "told me to go apply for Waseda."

Hanai hummed. "I'm planning to go to Todai," Tajima held one of his hands, warming it up with his body heat. It was chilly and Hanai just wants to go to sleep. "so it might not be that bad. Fifteen minutes worth of distance."

Silence, then Tajima's right hand's fingers laced up with his left's. 

"Hey," he called out, and it's too soft to sound like he's talking to Tajima. "we'll make it, right?"

Hanai scrunched up his face; make it to what? They're third years, and he have no idea what exactly it was that Tajima was talking about.

The universities? Graduation? _Koushien?_

Nonetheless: "Yeah, of course."

A squeeze. "Promise?"

A squeeze back. "Yeah, promise."

It never occurred to him, then, that what Tajima meant was an entirely different thing.

* * *

 

"My grandmother says that freckles are angel kisses."

It's their second year. They laid on Tajima's bed, sheets tangled between both of them. Hanai unconsciously traced and connected and stroked the freckles on Tajima's back--a habit that he'll soon develop. Tajima leaned into his touch.

"I've always thought that they're ugly." the clean-up murmured, and Hanai made a sound of negation. "No, really."

"They're not," Hanai continued, calloused fingers lingering on Tajima's back. 

It's like an artwork, he thought. And he do find them beautiful, but it doesn't matter.

Art isn't supposed to be pretty, in the first place. It's supposed to make you feel something.

And every part of Tajima makes him fall in love.

"I love you," Tajima croaked out. 

Hanai laid one, two kisses on his back before turning his body to face him. He kissed the ones scattered on his cheeks.

"And I, you."

* * *

He was a man of habit and virtue.

He approached everything with his mental priority list guiding his every step. Family. Studies. Baseball. Yuuichirou. 

So, naturally, when push came to shove, and his dad threw a fit that he tried hard to fight in the most logical and respectful way possible that December of 2005, and lost, he was given the ultimatum and decision that he never wanted to make:

lose everything--family, college, support--and be with Tajima still, or leave him.

The choice he made was obvious. He didn't regret it, of course--priority list, he reminded himself, but it still hurt. He collected his thoughts and decided how to approach this decision. All he felt like he was doing is shoving ashes into his mouth and swallowing a whole ocean.

His father forgave him. His mother didn't mind in the first place, but chose not to comment. His sisters never spoke about it, either, but never treated him any differently.

(But he swore his mom looked like she was sorry, looked like she was apologizing, and when he caught her gaze she just smiled bitterly and looked away.)

Abe shrugged and ducked his head. He shrugged harder when Hanai asked help as to how to break it off with Tajima; it left a bitter taste in his mouth, honestly, and his mind approached critical mass, thinking _Idon'twanttoIdon'twanttoIdon'twantto_ \--

The next day, snow was falling and he can feel the cold air attacking his lungs whenever he inhale. He couldn't breathe.

He didn't start walking when Tajima arrived. Tajima tried to touch him, but he swiftly moved away. Tajima looked up, eyes confused and face flushed from cold and--oh fuck--he looked like Hanai kicked him and dumped him in the middle of the pacific ocean.

(He tried to suffocate the voice in his head saying that that's exactly what he's going to do.)

"Tajima," he started, and it raised a red flag, because he's not calling him as Yuu and Tajima wanted to speak, but he just froze. "I was thinking about this yesterday. And I don't feel the same anymore." He licked his lips, and stared not at the boy, but at the pavement they're standing on. Then he stared at their shoes. His throat felt squeezed and his bile is threatening to rise up and he wants to puke and call in sick for the rest of his life. "I want to break up with you."

He saw Tajima walk slightly toward him, and he moved backwards. "I mean it."

"Then look at me, Asuza."

He remained staring at the pavement. He willed Tajima to just go away, because this isn't getting any easier on him and Tajima is so, so good at reading him, making him crumble and cave in.

"Asuza--"

"No," he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. He looked up, but away from the boy. "please, Tajima. Just leave me alone. I don't love you anymore."

He didn't see Tajima cry. He didn't see how he reluctantly opened his mouth, closed it, tightly, and shuffled away, feeling heavy and disassembled, angry not at Hanai or himself or to anyone else.

He's just angry, and this is not what he wanted, and he knows this isn't what Hanai wanted because he promised, _he promised_ \--

But Hanai's getting what he's convincing both of them as what he wanted.

* * *

 

He settled in his house--hugging his mom, laughing with his little sister, bowing to his dad. He just finished setting down his things in his room for his temporary stay when his phone rang.

"Hanai speaking, hello?"

"Hanai," Abe's voice came out, gruff and hard. "are you already at Saitama?"

"Yeah." He fiddled with a book that he bought, suppressing a yawn. "Why?"

"Look, I've got a favor to make, since you're already there and Izumi and Mizutani's so fucking hard to contact."

He shrugged; a bother, really, but his sense of being a captain never left him because he replied with a, "Yeah? What is it?" 

And promptly regretted it.

"I'm assigning you to take care of Tajima for a while--"

"What the hell, Abe--"

"He's not supposed to do anything related to baseball," Abe explained, "he injured his right hand and you know how crazy he can be. But you also know how essential he is to our team."

He knows, of course. Even with how much he flick the television at a dorm, apartment or in his house, it'll always, always be drawn back to the game Tajima's in when he happens to come across it. Or news about Tajima.

Or anything about Tajima. 

And he watches, tight-lipped and hands clenched, studying his face--he never outgrew those freckles, and Hanai secretly thought that that's good. He always loved his freckles.

"--Yeah, so, whatever, you have his number. Just contact him, he must've arrived already. I owe you one."

He spaced out for a long time and realized that Abe hung up on him already.

He stared at his phone for a while before fiddling with it to find Tajima's number.

* * *

 

They graduated as teammates, and nothing else.

Hanai managed to be squeezed in the Top 9 of the batch. Tajima barely passed (but his family's proud nonetheless).

(Hanai secretly keeps track of his performance and sighed out in relief.)

Hanai fought tooth and nail to be admitted in Todai. He was offered with baseball scholarships by different schools, but he rejected them. He let his touch linger on Waseda's envelope before tossing it aside.

He never played baseball again.

Tajima surprisingly breezed through Waseda's entrance exams despite being offered a baseball scholarship (that he promptly accepted), and became one of the (if not the most, Hanai thought) promising new recruits. The media agreed with Hanai and fawned over Tajima.

He didn't care and all that mattered was that he can play baseball. 

Hanai fell in love with him again and again.

* * *

 

"Tajima."

Hanai jogged up to the crouched down star player, who's feeding a dog. The phone call was not entirely awkward--Abe was slightly forgiven for at least giving Tajima a heads up. The twenty-one years old Giants player still almost looks like as he did in high school--freckles on face, body still lean and slender, though a little taller than when Hanai remembered him. A bandage covered his right hand, extending over to his wrist. He looked up and grinned, as if nothing is wrong in the world.

"Azusa!"

He stood up and the wind blew harder, and just like that Hanai felt like he's 17 again, walking down a path with Tajima, dragging their bikes along with them as they talk about wells and training regimes and "Azusa, I love you."

And, fuck, Tajima hugged him, and he hugged him back, and he tried, really, to not cling on him desperately, but he kind of did (he's sure he did) and he inhaled the smaller man's scent and he felt like crying, because it's like everything is taunting him, saying that this is what he missed, for four years, that day when he let him walk away, and he unconsciously thought that this is what he wanted, he's sure.

But, he thought, as they reluctantly broke off the hug (hands still holding each other's, though) with Tajima beaming up, face flushed--

But, at seventeen back at 2005, there were other things that Hanai wanted.

* * *

 

The media recently started asking about why he never hooks up with anyone.

Tajima always, always answers with, "I'm waiting for someone. No one will ever love my freckles like how they did."

The first time he said that, Hanai was torn between laughing and crying, but he surrendered.

Highly unlikely that it'll end well, but even after four years and things he started and ended, he's still in love with Tajima.

* * *

 

After the reunion, he bought Tajima home.

Being twenty-one with a slight alcohol in his system made him feel a bit brave.

His dad didn't say anything this time. His mom smiled slightly.

He dragged Tajima upstairs.

* * *

 

Later, when Hanai asked his father why he didn't say anything this time around, all he said was, 

"I watched the interviews."

He turned red. His father looked at him, knowingly. 

Then he said, "I know you did too. It's okay. I'm sorry, for not understanding before." He stood up and placed a hand on Hanai's shoulder, before hugging him.

"You're still my son."

All was forgiven. His mom cried.

He did too, later, while on the phone with Tajima. Tajima didn't say anything, but he can hear his smile.

* * *

 

"I love you," was what Tajima said that night after the reunion. "I love you, Asuza. After all this time."

Hanai's breathe hitched, and he held the clean-up tighter.

He missed this, was what was in his head.

"Me too," A kiss. "I never stopped. I never stopped loving you, Yuu."

A knowing smile, then Tajima cupped his face wit his hands. 

"I know."

* * *

 

Winter 2008, when all was white and Tajima barged into the apartment he got in Bunkyo. The 14 minutes worth of travel to reach each other helped, what with Tajima's baseball schedule and Hanai's finals. He's not going to complain, though--he thought of Tajima's old choice of Osaka University and cringed at the six hours worth of travel. He would've joined him at Waseda, but he was really adamant at focusing in his course--he somehow ended up with Japanese Literature, and Tajima being a, what, Physics major?

Really, the shrimp never cease to amaze him.

With him in his arms, cuddling with him on his couch in this cold climate, though, he can't find any reason to complain.

Except.

"Azusa," Tajima snuggled into him. "what do you think about getting an apartment together?"

* * *

 

Hanai felt Tajima twitch in his sleep, but didn't wake up. It's Saturday and the first few rays of the sun fluttered through their blinds, hitting his face. He felt cozy, though, and didn't move--only shifted to hold his lover better. Tajima leaned closer to him, but not without yawning a bit and looking up at him through drowsy eyes.

"Time?"

"No need," Hanai murmured, kissing the crown of his head then leaning to rest his forehead against the other's. "go back to sleep."

Tajima made a sound, and kissed him before further scooting closer to him. Hanai let him. He also let his eyelids flutter close, basking in the body heat they're both sharing and the comfort he's feeling. He felt warm inside-out, chest light and heavy at the same time, but not like how it used to--now it doesn't hurt.

He can breathe.

It's now Autumn of 2009. He is twenty-two.

And as he let himself fall asleep once more, he breathe in the feeling of rightness.

He does not know what the sky looks like outside, or if the rain from the last days of summer managed to make it feel chilly.

All the matters is that he is home ~~after four years~~. 

(He kissed Tajima's freckled cheeks before falling asleep, content.)

 


End file.
